Eyes

I don’t reply yet the answer
sticks in my mind. I turn and face the mirror, looking at my eyes through my
reflection. The eyes are the windows to soul, they say.They never lie. They always tell a story,
whether it’s one of happiness or sorrow or excitement or pain.

“Do you really want to marry
him?” You asked quietly.

“Yes.”

I close my eyes so you won’t
see the delicate truth in my practiced lies.